


Operation V-Day

by thedeadflag



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, One Shot, Romance, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadflag/pseuds/thedeadflag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana hates Valentine’s Day. It’s obviously made by breeders to get people fat and less attractive, and it doesn’t help that Brittany’s hanging all over Artie. Will her opinion change when she finds a little surprise in her locker?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation V-Day

Things weren't looking up for Santana Lopez. Not that McKinley High noticed, of course, outside of her recent spree of tormenting having registered a few points higher on her Bitchter scale. It was honestly all she could do to keep her mind off of everything that was happening around her.

It had all started when Britt began dating the transformer; Santana knew she'd royally fucked that opportunity up and was happy to have kind of started patching up their friendship, but it hadn't exorcised the hurt from her. She knew the pain was her own fault too, which just made it worse. Britt had been her first love, and because she had been too cowardly to speak to her about what they were doing outside of a specific sort of body language, she'd lost her chance with the tall blonde that she'd known since fourth grade. Try as she might, it was hard to keep from feeling that tight clenching pain in her chest when she'd see her best friend rolling down the halls in Artie's lap.

Adding to that, on a related note, she'd previously spent every Christmas since fifth grade with Britt and her family, or would have Britt over at hers for most of the day. She'd had to pass that torch to Artie, and that had left her holiday season incredibly barren and, though she'd never verbally admit it, lonely. Her parents had gone south to visit relatives, but she'd been too stubborn to go, staying in Lima in case Artie needed her to bail him out and keep Britt's beliefs in Santa alive. The fact that he succeeded surprised and hurt her, although she DID give him a breakdown of what to expect and how to handle the major issues beforehand. It just hurt to see Britt relying on someone else. It hurt that Britt hadn't come to see her until New Year's Day.

On top of that, she was off the Cheerios. Artie had failed the boyfriend test in her opinion, not even trying to convince the blonde to quit and save herself from Sue Sylvester's cannon-induced wet dreams. It was also kind of embarrassing that seconds before she found the right words about wanting to quit, Finn had interrupted her and got the blonde duo to quit and join glee before she could. She knew Q and B really didn't want to go, and just needed a little push, but Finn beating her to the punch was disheartening. Santana Lopez would NOT sacrifice a damn solo in front of all the people watching the half-time show, after all. So she had lost her red, white and black armor, and she was in glee. With a group half-filled with losers. Mind you, HER losers, but losers nonetheless.

Even on top of that, they'd lost Kurt to Dalton because of Karofsky was being a flaming homophobe and was generally protected by the school board. It was almost as if glee didn't want her help though, which was weird; she was arguably one of the most feared people in the school, yet when she made an impromptu visit to Berry's little brainstorming session, she was more or less told she wasn't useful or wanted. It didn't matter that she kneed the jock in the balls at least once a day for four days following Kurt's departure, she didn't seem to get any respect. She may not like Lady Face ninety-five percent of the time, but he was their gay diva, and no one was allowed to mess with him except the rest of glee. All she'd wanted to do was make that clear.

Lastly, for some inexplicable reason, Schuester decided to host some love-themed glee classes last week, and soon afterward the week had gotten off to a rocky start, with everyone giving her a ridiculous smack-down, just because she was being honest. She wasn't going to lie or anything, most of the time they sucked, and she was about eighty percent sure Finn's nipples were actually full of custard, but that didn't mean that everything she'd said wasn't playful at times. Schue WAS addicted to vests, everyone made fun of him for it behind his back, but because she was the brilliant creator of insults and came up with the twelve step joke about it, suddenly SHE was the bad guy? Not cool. Even less cool was Berry saying she'd only ever amount to being a stripper, which kind of hurt. _I'm aware of my rep, but who is Berry to say that when she doesn't know shit about me? At least I fucking validate her goals of being on Broadway when I make fun of her for being short or whatever…and sure, what I did broke her and Finn up, but the dude was a scumbag and lied to her…I'm a straight up bitch, and that means I gots to be honest. She can't hate on that!_

And so, Santana walked into school Monday morning feeling kind of bummed out. Not that she'd show it, but it was just a shitty time of the year. She hated Valentine's Day, and Britt had loved it, which just meant Britt would be super enthusiastic along with all the other couples, and she'd be ignored yet again unless someone decided to beg for a hook-up. Being single sucked sometimes; at least with her beard, she could pretend and create the illusion of being happy and whatever, but she didn't have anyone anymore.

As usual, the crowd of students parted as she put on her best arrogant HBIC face and made her way to her locker. Off in the distance, she could hear Britt's cheers, meaning Artie was taking her for a spin. _At least I don't have to worry about her this morning…though something smells different…_

Santana finished putting in her combination and opened her locker door, only to freeze in shock from the view inside. There, on top of her Geometry and History books was a box wrapped in pink and red heart-covered wrapping paper, with a note and a purple lotus resting on top. So what if she knew her flowers? She had a thing for them when she was a kid, whatever.

Even though she was weirded out and paranoid over her locker clearly having been broken into, she decided her curiosity was a bit too intense to ignore. Santana did enjoy a good mystery, or at least that's what she told herself when she'd occasionally rummage through her friends' things. Not that she did that often, just when she was suspicious, and her psychic Mexican third eye always ensured she found something substantial to confront them over in the end. So with it telling her to check whatever the shit was left for her, she reached up and grabbed the note, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of the flower.

She opened it to find a printed out message, and she felt her anticipation drop a little bit; Santana had hoped it would have at least been handwritten, but she knew it was rare that people put in the effort.

_Santana, my heart's desire,_

_I know you're probably confused and wondering why this is in your locker. Despite knowing you hold a disdain for the festive celebrations of Valentine's Day, I felt it was important to express to you that I care for you.  
I care for you immensely, so much that it hurts sometimes. I know you're going to be skeptical. You don't let anyone know who you really are, and I would admit that I only know a fraction of you, but it's more than enough for me to know that I love you. That's why I've added the lotus, it stands for mystery and truth. You may be a mystery to me still, and I may not know your entire truth, but I needed you to at least know that you're loved. Again, I can't expect you to accept this blindly, but over the week, I'll try to prove it to you. Inside the box is a hint at what helped me try to know you, what led me down the path I've been on for a long time now._

_I hope this morning finds you well, Santana_

Santana's brow furrowed as she re-read the letter two more times. Putting aside the admirer's clear lack of knowledge about the lotus flower, or at least knowledge that wasn't niche or antiquated, she felt a bit skeptical. There at the bottom of the note was a heart done in watercolour, so she was pleased to see some personality to the letter, but she'd never received a confession like that before. She honestly didn't know how to feel.

Making note that she had ten minutes before class, she decided to just go with it, opening the gift after securing the flower on her top-most shelf for safe-keeping. Santana's mouth gaped open as she stared at the contents inside. Resting on lavender tissue paper was a gloriously old looking book that, as she flipped through, was empty and full of quality paper; perfect for a journal. Underneath where it had rested was a container of ink, and what she assumed was a case for a pen. Suddenly, her brain was short-circuiting.

Santana had never told her friends about her little calligraphy hobby, as she knew Quinn would tease the hell out of her about it, and Britt would likely poke herself in the eye with the pen, or spill ink all over herself, or accidentally drink the ink. It had been a personal hobby that she found relaxing; ever since she'd seen older Disney films with fancy letters, she'd been interested in it. After months of begging throughout fourth grade, her parents had finally given in, buying her a set for her birthday. Santana racked her mind, trying to remember how someone would know. She figured if anyone did, it was Quinn, who was also a huge snoop. As the bell rang, her mind flashed to seventh grade, when her parents had asked her to do up some invitations for some party they were hosting. Nodding to herself, she knew that was the only time her hobby had made it to the public, which meant that a party a few years ago held all the clues. A party her parents wouldn't remember because they were too drunk. Fantastic.

She quickly grabbed her books and closed her locker, making her way to class as she did mental gymnastics, trying to figure out who could be behind it. Santana liked attention, she really did, but it still felt a little weird. _People don't do these things for people like me…what the hell is going on? If this is Quinn playing an elaborate prank, I'll kill her…_

* * *

Her day had been horrible, which had become standard over the past months, and as she walked to glee, she couldn't be more excited to get out of the hellhole called McKinley High. As she rounded the corner toward the choir room, Santana's pace slowed, finding it strange that Rachel was standing outside the room, looking entirely too nervous. _She's usually always there early…and I'm late as usual…so…_

"Berry, I know us people are like trees to you, but I didn't peg you for the type to get yourself lost on your way here." Santana noted suspiciously, her words causing Rachel's head to swivel toward her sharply.

"Santana! I…I imagine you wouldn't wish to speak with me, but I feel I must express my deepest regret over what I said to you last week in the choir room, it was uncalled for, inappropriate, unprofessional, and entirely inaccurate. I have no excuse for my actions and I…" Rachel rambled as she stepped right into the ex-cheerleader's personal space. Santana was kind of happy the girl was trying to apologize, as Berry's ego was about as big as her own at times, but despite the girl's sincere body language, her words just didn't sound good enough. She preferred something simple, she always had. Berry, on the other hand, had the ability to turn a yes or no answer into a six paragraph essay. She'd found the tone people speak in, their body language and their eyes to be good alternatives for extra words, just like how writing style in her calligraphy conveyed much more than the words alone. Sometimes words weren't enough.

"Whatever, Berry. Come on." She spoke lazily, hoping to convey that she honestly didn't care anymore, or at least that she didn't want to, and that she just wanted to get it all over with. Santana didn't truly hate the hobbit, she kind of liked her when she wasn't being aggravating, or pushing all the guilt Finn deserved onto her unfairly. She didn't understand why Finn lying to Rachel meant that she had to take the fault for it, and that Finn and Rachel's split somehow inexplicably was her fault, which again made no sense. The hobbit should have been happy to be done with Lumps the Clown, but the girl still looked entirely broken up about it. Not that it was at all forgivable for Berry to say what she did, but she understood people said shit when they were angry, and sometimes they didn't mean it. Quinn was the prime example of that kind of thing, after all. Berry was too sweet of a girl to have really meant it; sure the diva could be manipulative and backhanded at times, but Santana wasn't in the way of some goal of hers, so she just let bygones be bygones in hopes that things would go back to normal, and they could be relaxed in glee again.

* * *

Santana had to admit that she kind of really didn't mind snow. Sure, it was cold, wet, and made her shiver in general, but seeing how she wasn't on the Cheerios and didn't have to practice in blizzards anymore, she could enjoy the aesthetics of it all. And anyways, it usually led to her drinking loads of hot chocolate, along with the odd trip to Quinn's to lay by her fireplace. If it stuck for long enough and didn't get gross, she'd probably try to wrestle Britt's attention from Artie for long enough to go tobogganing with her. Winter was fading slowly, and while she really looked forward to spring, she wanted to make the most of the last weeks of the snowy season. It had looked peaceful outside when she woke up, which was a drastic change from the previous day; glee had been a madhouse with Finn making sex-eyes at Quinn, which Sam got kind of justifiably pissy about, while Rachel moped, and Puck tried for the seventieth consecutive time to mount the white rhino, only to continue his streak of failure. And when she'd gotten home, her parents were mid-argument, so she had just slipped upstairs, finished her homework, listened to some music, and wrote an entry in her new journal.

The book was really kind of amazing, and looked like some crazy magical tome; the pen wasn't anything special, but the thought counted, and the quality ink easily made up for it. It was a really thoughtful gift, and while she was still creeped out by it having been stashed in her locker by some ninja, she felt a little better about it. If she caught someone breaking into her locker Tuesday morning, she'd probably only hobble the person instead of doing the whole flaying thing. Which was why for the first time in her high school tenure, she was going to school early.

Her parents' yelling lasted into the wee hours of the night, so she didn't manage to get much more than a nap; she woke at quarter past five and saw a nice healthy layer of snow on the ground, with more snow softly falling from what the street lights illuminated. It was really pretty outside, so she'd shoveled the driveway, hopped into the shower, and sat down for some breakfast before heading off to school.

She knew that showing up at seven-thirty was overkill, but if someone was going to be shoving shit in her locker, she needed intel. Santana needed to know how they were doing it and when they were doing it, and she had decided it was either after school hours passed, or before classes started, and no matter what, she'd have a decent bit of information either way, showing up that early.

The halls were basically empty aside from the odd teacher, staff member and random student; the radio hadn't reported a snow day, but on days like that most kids stumbled in close to the bell, which was an hour away. She didn't blame them, normally she loved her sleep. She actually still did, it just didn't come to her as often. With her recent school-related stress issues and her parents constantly losing their shit at each other, it just kind of evaded her. That she was a light sleeper didn't help any. _I'll take a nap at lunch, maybe. My free period runs into it, so I can get a bit more than an hour, I figure..._

She approached her locker and quickly spun out her combination, throwing her locker door open to see yet another series of gifts. This time, though, they were much smaller. There was another note, with what looked to be a magenta gladiolus resting on top of it, with a tall gift bag settled up against the right side of her middle shelf. She'd never actually grown any gladiolus flowers before, but she liked the smell of it, though it was slightly overpowered by the scent of coffee. Delicious coffee, in fact. Santana peeked her head back out and scanned the hall to see if anyone was carrying any around, but it was empty. Feeling like she was cheating a little, she took a look into the tall bag and spotted a travel mug. Greedily, she took it in her hands and opened the spout, taking a long sniff of the gorgeous Irish cream latte inside. She even smelled a hint of cinnamon, which most wouldn't put near such a drink but she loved the combination. She allowed a gleeful smile to spread across her face as she took a sip, noticing it was still quite hot. Not like anyone was around to see her smile, anyway. _Hrm…definitely left here this morning, then…_

It was strange to have her favourite comfort drink resting inside her locker at the start of the morning, kind of creepy even that they got the order perfectly, but it really did brighten her day. During the early aftermath of the Brittany debacle, she'd usually stop by the Lima Bean for an order of it when she was feeling particularly sad. Britt had convinced her not to drink a half bottle of Patron every time like she used to do whenever she got really upset, and while she kind of missed the whole drink-'til-you-forget dynamic, Santana really did like that latte. It somehow magically managed to cheer her up every time, so it was a pleasant surprise, seeing as how poor her past few weeks had been. She really did need that, and it was kind of really nice to know someone knew her well enough to help her out like that, even if she hadn't asked for help, and didn't necessarily need anyone else to handle her shit.

Deciding to be a decent person, Santana took another long sip and put the mug down, picking up the note in its stead. As before, it was printed out with a watercolour heart at the bottom. She kind of felt a little weird, wishing the person would just handwrite the note, no matter how messy their writing was; she liked written notes, it was why she liked calligraphy so much, and she figured it would be nice to have something more personal than a typed letter, something that showed personality. Not that she cared THAT much or whatever.

_Santana, my heart's desire,_

_I know that yesterday was likely a shock to you, and you were skeptical. I hope now that you are starting to understand that I am sincere in my heartfelt feelings for you. Gladiolus flowers represent that, secondarily at least, though primarily they symbolize the strength of one's character. People may notice you here at school, but I see you, Santana. You're an incredibly strong person, not only for yourself but for others. I know you help Brittany shut off the world so you can relay the truth to her when she gets confused or hurt. Across the years, you've been the only consistently good thing in her life aside from her parents, and the ducks she talks about so often perhaps. No matter what happens or how it affects you, I know you'd be there to help if she needed it, because you're a fantastic friend to the few who have earned that title from you. I love that so much about you, and I can't count the times where I've wished I was brave enough to put in the effort, because you're worth it. I can only ask for a chance, but ultimately all that matters is that you know you're cared for and loved, even if you don't wish to accept my affections._

_I've noticed you've been looking slightly crestfallen in recent weeks, and I hope that I can help you in a fraction of the way you help your best friend. You're always changing headphones, so I got you some durable ones for when you need to shut the world out and refocus. It's been a cold winter, so I knit you some gloves, in case you get chilly. I hope the coffee wasn't too presumptuous, I used to study at the Lima Bean, and for a few weeks, you'd come in almost daily for one of those. It was hard not to notice. I hope it warms you up this morning like you warm my heart. You're not alone, you'll always have me._

_I hope this morning finds you well, Santana_

Santana sat down in front of her locker, taking the gift bag in one hand and the travel mug in the other, leaving the note resting in her lap. Once again she found herself not really knowing what to think; she liked that someone paid that much attention to her quirks, and saw past her admittedly thorny, vicious mask she kept on. Not that she didn't like the power that came with that whole deal, but she was more than just a bitch, and it was nice for someone other than Britt and Quinn to notice, even if it took until junior year for that to happen. Santana knew the reality of things; when she got out of Lima to whatever college or university she chose, there wouldn't be any head bitches on campus. No one was set on the same schedule, classes ran all day and were often optional in attendance, and thousands of people were paying their own money to get a career. She'd get to be something much more organic when she was able to leave, she just had to keep her persona up as long as she was still closeted and in Lima. She knew people didn't like her, they just feared her, so reading about someone liking what little they saw of her behind-the-scenes self was kind of blush-worthy. Not that Santana Lopez was blushing. The coffee was just still kind of hot and all.

Santana peeked inside the bag and couldn't help but smirk when she saw the cable-knit mittens resting there, an oddly smoky shade of dark purple that pretty much clashed with every bit of winter-wear she owned. However, when her hands touched them, she let out a soft gasp, amazed at how soft and comfortable they felt. _Fuck fashion, if I go sledding, I'm wearing these. Or maybe that might wreck them…maybe just inside when I'm cold and watching TV? My room's insulation really sucks, and I could use some extra heat, seeing as the vent that SHOULD be leading into my room disconnected and fell three years ago, and they haven't fixed it since. Summers suck, winters suck, so if these will keep me warm, that'll do…and why am I rambling to myself? This is weird…_

Santana took another sip and re-read the letter, knowing that the cast of potential people who could have done all of that for her was quite small. She decided not to camp out earlier the next morning, figuring that maybe, with another day, she might be able to guess. She already had some ideas, though since most didn't make any sense, she figured she'd let herself stew on the details a bit.

* * *

"Santana!" She heard whispered from the desk beside her in Spanish class. Quinn had been practically stalking her all afternoon since lunch, and she didn't really understand why. Santana didn't think it was a big thing that she missed out on the Cheerios table's mindless gossip for a few minutes in exchange for an amazingly restful nap in the backstage area of the auditorium.

"Quinn!" she mockingly whispered in return, keeping her eyes on their glorious teacher. Schue's poor grasp on Spanish was probably the most entertaining thing she had going every day. Sure, a white guy with a jheri-curl and a head full of Vaseline or butter was butchering one of the languages she was proudly fluent in, one her mother taught her, but he was so convinced he was good that it was hilarious.

"What's up with your face?" Quinn asked quietly, leaning slightly into the aisle toward her for some inexplicable reason.

"Well, I still have my sultry, model-like good looks, and…" Santana quietly listed off, knowing full well that Quinn didn't mean any of that at all. Though she wasn't really sure what Quinn actually meant.

"No… you've been…smiling. It's weird." Quinn noted, nudging Santana with her foot, as if that made any difference or added any emphasis to her point. Quinn was weird when she was suspicious. She was like Nancy Drew, if she was bi-polar, obsessed with bacon, and had sudden irrepressible urges to kick people in the shins annoyingly.

"I always smile when Schue proves himself to be a waste of a Spanish teacher." She answered quietly, as if it was obvious, because it really was. Everyone in the class should be amused as shit that Schue somehow got his job. They should also, at the same time, be disgusted that he was singlehandedly ruining their chances of being bilingual.

"No, like, you've been smiling all day. Do I need to help you bury a body, or do you need me to help you plot someone's death? I'm not going to help with both, San." Quinn continued, and Santana wanted to believe her blonde friend wasn't being serious, but she really was. So they'd broke into the hospital morgue once and stolen a freshly washed body bag, one that Santana escaped with later on with no further word to Quinn. So she was pretty sure Quinn thought she'd killed someone, when in reality, she liked having props around in case she needed to pull a prank. It was how she knew that while Britt was her BFF, Quinn was the one person she could count on in the clutch if things went to shit. Whether it was because the blonde was scared of her or because she just genuinely was that loyal, Santana wasn't sure, but she let herself enjoy it.

"I'll tell you on our way to glee." Santana whispered, returning her focus back to the sad hilarity that was Schue's grasp on a wonderful language.

Class didn't last all that much longer, and soon Santana found herself slowly walking down the hallway with Quinn, who kept glancing at her face. Sure, now that Santana knew she'd been smiling all day, she'd made active attempts to stop it, but Quinn's expression let her know she wasn't being all that successful. It was just kind of cool to be wanted, there wasn't anything wrong with that. _Plus, the person who's 'admiring' me is totally classy, in a weird way, being all polite and thoughtful…none of those shitty cliché chocolates or whatever that'd just make me fat…_

"So? Spill." Quinn spoke, her tone more of a request than a demand, which meant she was nervous. Nervous Quinn was like a fragile nail bomb that could explode any second and cause massive damage including fatalities. So she quickly got to defusing it.

"It's nothing big. I just…don't laugh, alright? Because I've already done enough of that over all this." Santana said, though she was lying about the laughing aspect. She really hadn't. She was confused, weirded out, and kind of touched, but none of it was all that funny. Quinn didn't need to know, but her just prefacing her statement with that served to calm the girl down a bit. "I apparently have a secret admirer. It's fucking ridiculous."

Quinn burst into laughter, her face spelling out a level of disbelief that kind of didn't sit all that well in Santana's stomach. She understood theoretically how it could be funny, seeing as how massive a bitch she usually was, but it wasn't something that was so far-fetched or anything, was it? Santana didn't think it was too much, so she just gave Quinn an annoyed glare. "You…you're serious, aren't you?" Quinn gaped, gasping for breath as some passing students looked at the both of them with bewildered expressions.

"Yesterday they left a flower, a note and a book. Today was another flower, some headphones, and winter gloves." Santana explained, sending Quinn into more gales of laughter. "Look, you're being a little over the top with all that laughter…maybe it's to try and throw me off the trail or whatever, so you're officially on my suspect list now, Fabgay. You've been staring at me all day, after all, and you know me well enough to explain the notes."

Quinn's eyes bulged as she choked back her laughter, looking positively freaked out at the thought of being her admirer. Which wasn't a surprise, as Quinn was straight and positively avoidant when it came to any talk about homosexual desire, but it was fun teasing her about sexuality. "You…you can't think…"

"Hey, someone's breaking into my locker, and you're one of the only people at school who can pick combination locks like mine. I'm just saying." Santana noted slyly, stepping into the choir room, not giving Quinn a chance to respond before Santana went to the upper risers in her favourite corner, Quinn having to sit near her boyfriend on the other side of the room.

As Santana scanned the others in the club, she saw mostly everyone engaged in some conversation. For a brief second she swore Berry's eyes were locked on her own, before the brunette answered some question Mercedes had sent her way. It was almost as if it hadn't happened. Almost.

* * *

The next morning found Santana holding a checklist of possible suspects. For entertainment purposes, Quinn was at the top of the list, with hearts and rainbows beside her name in case the blonde managed to see the piece of paper. Mike Chang was second, seeing as he got to school at six thirty for a morning calculus tutoring session most weekdays. Rachel Berry was third, because of her tendency to be stupidly early for everything, and detail oriented, even if she was most likely straight. That, and Santana had a feeling that the girl would go all Lisa Frank on her, and her gifts hadn't been all that obnoxiously wrapped. Tina was option four, because wherever Mike went, she went, and that meant the girl had some free time to break into lockers and plant shit. She knew Tina also liked flowers too, seeing how she often worked at Lima's flower shop every summer. Lastly, there was Jewfro, because he was creepy enough to pull that off, and in a way she kind of hoped it was him so she could put the body bag to use. _But I'd probably be kind of sad too, I guess…_ she mused, driving to the school Wednesday morning.

Santana got there the same time as before, seven thirty, and once again the halls were virtually empty. She carried her fresh brew of coffee into the school with her, using the travel mug she was given, of course. Santana slipped the absolutely toasty mittens off as she reached her locker, shoving them in her coat pocket as she put in her combination, feeling kind of excited. There was a new scent in her locker, she knew that before she opened it; she'd taken both flowers home the night before, just so they would stay alive a little longer. The person had gone through a lot of work with them, and she didn't want to waste that. Didn't mean she was getting all sentimental or whatever.

Her locker opened, revealing a few Sweet Pea flowers on a single stem, one of her favourite flowers if she were to be honest; beside it was a note resting on top of what could be a small dark rose coloured jewelry box, gift wrapped with a bow. Santana suspiciously reached for the box first, thinking it would be a massive escalation from mittens and headphones to earrings or a ring or whatever. Santana carefully slipped the elegant bow off then flipped open the lid, finding a memory card inside a plastic container. It was a puzzling revelation that just made her look back to the note.

_Santana, my heart's desire,_

_I imagine you skipped this to check the box. I'm sorry, that was the only one that remotely fit today's gift. See, Sweet Peas symbolize departure, adventure, and generally having a blissfully pleasant experience with someone. While none of these have come to pass within the same context, I know you want them to. You want out of Lima just as badly as I do, and I know you'll be free soon. You may not have explored the world; I know I have barely scratched the surface in my own experiences, but I'm excited for the future, for you to get out there and see what the world has to offer, to show others the magnificence that is yourself. So I left you the memory card from my trip a few summers ago, just as inspiration and reminder that there are so many places out there for you to experience. You're destined for great things, Santana, I've always felt that, even at my worst. And I hope that one day you'll give me a chance to show you that you could find bliss with me out there, that I'm more than what this school makes me become, just like how you're more than the face you put on every morning._

_You're a beautiful person, and I don't primarily mean physically, although you are physically attractive too. It's why I've never been able to hate you for what you do, because I know there's a wonderful, creative and entirely lovable person inside you. So keep that ambition, and when you get out of Lima, make your own memories. It's not where you start or finish that's important, it's all that glorious middle, where the adventure is. Where you'll thrive._

_I hope this morning finds you well, Santana_

Santana's brow furrowed at the note as she sipped her coffee; it was long, and rambling, and if she'd read it on Monday, she would have written it off as a letter of empty words, but she kind of believed a lot of it. Not all, she deserved to be hated for what she'd done, she lived with that, accepted that. She also wasn't sure she was 'destined for great things', considering she had no solid idea of what she wanted to do in her life. Nevertheless, she kind of liked the letter, and wanted to get home to look at the pictures as soon as possible. Knowing she'd have to wait half a day to do that was more than a little frustrating. Santana had been out of Ohio five times; twice to Tampa, once to Boston, one trip to Pittsburgh, and one to Chicago. She'd always wanted to see more, but her family didn't have a lot of money.

Her father was a doctor, but his old loans, her mother's past gambling debts, and some poor financial decisions had made money tighter than it otherwise would have been. Their last 'family vacation' was a visit to family in Florida for two days, for a funeral. So Santana knew she had to get her post-secondary ducks in order, get a good scholarship to a good school, and figure shit out. She was out of the Cheerios, which only gave her more time to study and prepare for everything. She'd already taken old SAT tests and prep mock-exams and had scored well. She needed a top five percentile, if not better, and she knew she could get it if she committed hard enough. All she had to do was take a little page from Berry's book and she'd be golden.

As a thought struck her, Santana's eyes darted back to the note, reading it over carefully before she pulled out the other two. _No…I mean…I can kind of see it but…well, maybe it could be her…but how would she know so much about me? Just because the writer of these rambles on and on doesn't mean it's Berry. But…it could be…couldn't it? Wait, what about the stripper remark last week? No, I mean…no, no one could profess to love me and say that, right? I mean, that's not something you'd say, right? Fuck. I don't know anymore…_

* * *

Outside of Quinn pestering her constantly about her 'admirer', and the blonde's hilariously hasty retreats due to the darker girl's assertions that it was indeed her, Santana's day was mostly uneventful. Once again, she was on her way to her locker to grab her things and head home, wanting to put her flower of the day into the vase in her room as soon as possible, but a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks. Santana shook her head at the sound of singing from the auditorium; glee had finished barely five minutes before, and the pintsized diva was going at it again, despite having sung a solo during glee.

Deciding her flower could last a few extra minutes, Santana strolled into the auditorium, taking a seat in the front row as Rachel sang some Celine Dion song at the piano, apparently not having noticed her entry. Rachel had always been a stupidly awesome singer, and even though she hated never having official glee solos in competition, she understood that the diva earned them with blood, sweat and tears.

"Bravo." She called out, clapping lightly as Rachel's voice trailed off with the final note. The diva quickly spun around, wide-eyed and clearly in shock. After a few seconds of silence, Santana decided to take the initiative, patting the seat next to her.

Rachel gave her a wary look, but slowly made her way off the stage and to the seat beside her, angling herself in the chair so that she was nearly entirely sideways, facing Santana directly. "Santana, I…regret to inform you, but normally I practice for an additional hour on Wednesday evenings, and as it's barely ten minutes into that time period, I can only hope that you've called me over here for something other than insults or idle chatter." Rachel rambled at a lightning-like pace, Santana really having to focus to hear the diva, though she was surprised that the girl enunciated every single syllable correctly as she spoke. It was kind of impressive in a nerdy way. Anyway, she'd had a question on her mind all day, and she figured that the brunette owed her an answer.

"It's just been bugging me a little…not that I really care but…" Santana paused, trying to think of the best way to word the question, oddly trying to provoke a rant in order to get some idea of what was going on in the girl's head. "I mean, I make fun of your height a bit, and sometimes your nose I guess, and your fashion sense…so I know I had it coming in some way, but there's no way that me insulting you hurt you bad enough to say what you did. You've never blown up on Finn, Quinn or Kurt like that, so why me? I just…I don't understand."

She took a chance in not playing to her usually hard exterior, just allowing her regular curious, emotionally distanced self out to play instead, which seemed to have caught Rachel off guard. "I…um…Santana, I really do apologize for…"

"You've already done that, I don't need to hear it again, I know you meant it. I'm not asking for a repeat. I just want to know why." Santana explained, not wanting Rachel to burn away her valuable practice time on an empty answer and apology she'd already received.

Rachel was quiet for a little bit, taking a long deep breath before speaking again. "Everyone had paired up. Tina and Mike were together, Sam and Quinn, Artie and Brittany, Puck and Lauren, Finn was constantly flirting with the cheerleaders, and you and Mercedes were prowling around the football team, and I just…"

"I'm going to cut you off because I don't know what you're talking about. I mean, I get it, glee's like this big incestuous musical chairs game with relationships, but…seriously Berry. Finn, for about twenty minutes, got all pouty and spread a rumour to a few people that within hours was squashed. And you believed him? I mean, not that I have to answer to you or shit like that, but he lied to you, I told the truth even if I was harsh about it." Santana noted calmly, looking sidelong at the nervous girl beside her who was fiddling with the hem of her reindeer sweater. "I think you just wanted an excuse to get pissed off at me, and that's not cool…that's not YOU. And for the record, not that it's any of your business…I haven't been with anyone, official or otherwise, since September. I thought your sixth sense would have let you in on that." Santana finished, standing up from her seat, getting ready to walk off when Rachel grabbed her wrist. She'd said her piece, set out her bait, and was just waiting to see if Berry would bite.

"I was jealous and angry, and I was being selfish in lashing out. I had no excuse for what I said. I really am sorry, Santana." Rachel said softly, and Santana imagined the girl's large, soft, pleading eyes hoping she'd turn around. So she did. And she was right.

"Look, it's whatever, I've done worse to you. I'm just…I'm sick of this. I need to get out of this hick town, and I'm going to be so busy soon that I'll barely have time for fun. Glee's it. Just be my captain, alright? If you have an issue with me, bring it. My rep makes sure people tell stories and use me all the time to play themselves up without me knowing, and you know…whatever. It's just words, and I'll be gone in a year and a half anyway. I'm tired of this petty shit, though. Glee's the best part of most of our days, and it's your job to make sure it stays that way, alright?" Santana asked, drawing a surprised yet excited expression from Rachel, who nodded cheerfully. "Good, and don't let Lumps control you. He's co-captain, but no one cares. You've always been the group's fucking Northern Star, because we don't know what the hell to do without you. So next time you're thinking of having a hissy fit, just fucking talk to us instead of appreciating the drama of a situation and imploding it."

Santana slid her wrist from Rachel's grasp quickly, but not harshly, and began walking to the doors. "You're better than most people think you are, Santana." She heard Rachel call out, which made her smile just a little bit. She was going home, flower in hand, and had a pretty good idea of who her admirer was. Santana thought it would lessen her interest in the week's festivities thrust upon her, but she kind of just wanted to look at the pictures on the memory card and wait for tomorrow morning. And perhaps put a plan in place to push the envelope. First, though, she had to stop at her locker for a moment.

* * *

Santana was surprisingly getting used to waking up early, and had somehow managed to get eight full hours of sleep, since her father was on call at work and her mother was too drunk to bug her the previous night. The first thing that came to mind was hope; she hoped that her secret admirer would comply with the request she'd made the previous evening before she left. She knew it was a long-shot, someone having to re-write out a letter by hand that early in the morning, instead of just giving her the printed one because it was easier. She wanted to see if her admirer would put in the effort; she'd even show up closer to eight to give them some extra time if they needed it.

Sure, she was about ninety percent certain who it was, but she liked to think that the person didn't know she'd caught on. Santana really didn't want to spook them; outside of that, she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted, but she didn't want them doubting themselves. _And if someone goes through all this effort just to show me they love me…why would I want to tear them down for it? Why not…I don't know, maybe encourage them to step it up a little?_

So there she was, strolling into the school with a smile on her face, kind of excited to see what was going on in her locker. Sure, she still insisted that Valentine's Day was made by breeders in order to sell chocolate and false hope, as well as make people fatter and less attractive, but the attention was nice. For the longest time, she hadn't felt worth knowing; her parents hadn't put in the effort, Quinn did at a surface level, and Britt knew random parts of her, but all that anyone knew about her was knowledge given to them by Santana. That someone put in the time to try and figure Santana out, to learn more about her on their own, was a nice feeling. No one had really done that before.

She opened her locker to find a surprising flower that took her a few seconds to peg. She'd never seen an Edelweiss up close, but she'd learned of it in history class thankfully. It was a strange flower, with a lovely sweet scent, and beside it was a gift wrapped box like on Monday, with a note resting on top. Santana smiled at the hastily written letter, in what looked to be some weird pink gel pen that she would have been tremendously into when she was in fifth grade. It was kind of really cute, especially how clearly nervous the person was while writing it.

_Santana, my heart's desire,_

_I've went to school with you for years, and on the surface I've generally seen a hyper-aggressive, angry girl. I can only imagine there is a reason for you to be as you are, and for the longest time I thought that you resorted to violence whenever you could, simply because you needed an outlet for your pain. Recently, though, I've come to realize that I was wrong, because you aren't always violent, and it isn't always a personally driven event._

_You care. More than maybe even you like to admit, and certainly more than the rest of the school would admit, but you do. When Kurt was bullied by Karofsky, you tried to help; perhaps not in the most diplomatic way, but there was nothing for you to gain from it. I saw you the odd time shadowing Kurt in the halls, pretending to stake Kurt as prey so David wouldn't steal your 'prize kill'. I saw the times you made cringe-worthy flirtations at the boy to distract him when Kurt was passing by on his way to art class. Of course, I also heard about the quartet of kicks to David's nether regions, which surely put him off from attacking glee. He hasn't since Kurt left, and I feel it is your efforts that have helped with that, something most girls here in school wouldn't dare to do given the difference in your statures. For that, I offered the Edelweiss flower, representing noble courage, because despite your school persona, you embody it._

_You even went against Sue Sylvester countless times under the guise of destroying the club, when instead you were truly strengthening it. It's why I believed you at sectionals that day, and why I still believe in you today. You aren't a perfect individual, I don't love your dips into violence, but I love you, so I offered today's gift in hopes it would help you let your anger out in a healthier manner. I've always felt those hands of yours were made for holding, not hurting._

_I hope this morning finds you well, Santana_

Santana quickly placed the note on her top shelf with the others, and opened her gift, finding a pair of padded sparring gloves. It was an odd gift, for sure, but Santana figured she'd probably get some use out of them at the gym next time she went. Her admirer was right, she did have rage issues, and she resorted to violence too often. Sometimes it was easier to punch things until she was too exhausted or physically hurt than deal with any of the emotional damage she'd been dealt. So the gift was nice, and it would add some much needed spice to her workout regimen.

But her admirer was right. Her hands could be put to better use.

* * *

Santana was kind of pleased with herself; her plan had come to her so easily, so perfectly, that she couldn't wait for her free period. It was Thursday, meaning no glee, so she knew her admirer would end up in the choir room at lunch to practice; Sue and the cheerios were illegally holding the auditorium hostage, which was apparently a thing that was started when Schue accidentally got some of the Vaseline he puts in his hair on Sue.

When Santana got there, she set up the vase of flowers she'd received onto the piano, outside of the lotus, which wouldn't fit. She knew that would catch the person's attention, and she'd leave the winter gloves on top of her coat on one of the chairs, just casually resting there for anyone to see. And finally, Santana had sat herself on the piano bench, mindlessly playing the intro to a song she figured fit her situation well as soon as the lunch bell rang.

Santana wasn't an idiot; she knew Rachel was just half a hallway down from the room, and would power-walk her way in there within seconds. And as she started to sing, she saw the door swing open a little, before not so subtly being pulled back, hiding the petite brunette listening in behind it.

She smiled to herself, knowing Rachel was certainly the type to eavesdrop, and just starting singing along, hoping her bait would be effective.

 _Why I should feel this way_  
_Why I should feel this way_  
 _Why I should feel the same_

 _Is something I cannot say_  
_Is something I cannot say_  
_Is something I can't explain_

She started, shaking her head a little as the diva creaked the door open just a little wider; Rachel was obviously sneaking a look, half her face peering out from behind the door. Santana had figured the song would grab the girl's attention; it wasn't really often she'd sing anything so soft, if ever, and she certainly hadn't played piano at school before. It was a small gift, but she knew the diva would appreciate it, even if she didn't think it was a gift at all.

_I feel you…outside, at the edge of my life  
I see you…walk by, at the edge of my sight_

She was tempted to call the girl into the room, but felt that the next verse would have more impact if Rachel still thought she was privately eavesdropping. Santana was sure that Rachel thought she wouldn't let anyone see her publicly in such a way, and she didn't want to turn that on its head. Even if four days of letters, alongside some thoughtful gifts of course, had her feeling that maybe she was worth seeing after all. That maybe she could show more of herself, knowing that someone liked those sides of her for once.

Santana added the little flourish on the keys and let herself sink a little forward on the bench. She'd never had lessons, and was self-taught, so she knew her posture was bad, and her tendency to get a little too into her music while playing just added to that. Music had always been something of a crutch for her; it was the only truly safe place where she felt allowed to feel emotion. So while she was playing the song to bait Berry, it didn't change the whirling emotions rushing through her that the song always stirred up.

 _Why I should follow my heart?_  
_Why I should follow my heart?_  
 _Why I should fall apart?_

 _Why I should follow my dreams?_  
_Why I should follow my dreams?_  
_Why I should be at peace?_

She sang tenderly, feeling a little vulnerable at how music brought that out of her. Throughout glee, the group had mostly stuck to upbeat songs, show-tunes and rock classics; songs that were too wrapped up in nostalgia and reputation for her to really feel in that sort of way. She loved singing and dancing in glee, it was a lot of fun, but it never meant that she had to be open, that she had to express herself properly. Santana recalled when she'd considered singing Fleetwood Mac's 'Songbird' to Britt, to really show her how she felt, but that had been dashed when she spotted the girl and Artie having an intense make out session by the eastern stairwell. It only felt fitting that, while she didn't have any incredibly strong romantic feelings for Rachel at the moment, she knew there was potential there. That it kind of already was happening; Rachel wasn't an unattractive girl, and her voice was majestic, and her eyes were kind of like these soft cocoa black holes that drew her in, but she didn't know the person all that well. She liked that Berry was kind, had ambition and initiative, and wasn't a pushover at all. She'd never really considered the girl, even after she came out to herself, because she thought the diva was straight. So, as the previous day's note stated, she was interested in a little adventure.

_I feel you…outside, at the edge of my life  
I see you…walk by, at the edge of my sight_

_I had to let you go, to the setting sun  
I had to let you go, and find a way back home_

_I had to let you go, to the setting sun  
I had to let you go, and find a way back home_

Santana let herself just feel the song with all she had as she played, the song's lyrics floating around in her head. She wasn't sure that doing anything about Rachel was a good idea. The diva had her whole life planned out, she didn't need someone who was hiding in plain sight all the time to distract her. How could she ever get close to loving someone like that without being entirely honest, not only to herself and the diva, but to everyone? Rachel deserved someone who could give her that, and Santana didn't know if she could, at least while they were in Lima. Wouldn't she have to let Rachel go first? Wouldn't she have to figure herself out, be comfortable with who she was underneath everything, before even trying anything with anyone?

_When I dream all I see is you…  
When I dream all I see is…_

_I've never seen a light that's so bright_  
_I've never seen a light that's so bright_  
 _I've never seen a light that's so bright_

 _Blinded by the light that's inside_  
_Blinded by the light that's inside_  
 _Blinded by the light that's inside you…_

Santana allowed herself a small piano solo, one she'd been working on for weeks at home, only slightly modified to accommodate the present song choice. She couldn't help but wonder what was on the diva's mind, and how she'd eventually come into the room, because there was no way the brunette would be scared off. She'd enter eventually, and Santana would corner her a little bit when the opportunity arose.

_I had to let you go…to the setting sun.  
I had to let you go…and find a way back home…_

Santana let her hands rest on the keys as she let the sustained notes ride out. In her head, she counted down from fourteen, figuring Berry would do a ten count, and then when it ran out, do a three count. She'd noticed it before back in sophomore year, and hoped she'd be right and wouldn't have to wait any longer than that.

As she had predicted, the diva burst into the room fifteen seconds later in full power-walk mode, though it was clear she was a little flustered, a hint of a pinkish blush on her cheeks. After about nine steps, Rachel stopped still in her tracks, feigning surprise; if Santana hadn't seen the diva spying outside, she probably would have believed her. The girl's acting abilities were kind of scary.

"Santana! I…Why are you here?" Rachel exclaimed, a dramatic hand clutching her chest to emphasize the shock and everything.

"Just practicing. I don't have much space at home, so I figured with my free period and lunch hour merged, I'd stick around here." Santana noted calmly, looking at Rachel to see if she could see through the girl's mask, at what was going on behind those big brown eyes.

Rachel's eyes scanned the room, probably for a chair, and Santana noticed the girl's gaze caught for a half second on the gloves, before her focus slipped back to Santana and the vase in front of her.

"I wasn't aware you played piano. As…as your captain, it would have been beneficial for you to inform me." Rachel noted as she stepped a little closer, eying up the flowers.

"And as my captain, I'd like your feedback on what I played." Santana retorted with a smirk, holding up a hand when Rachel's mouth opened in a feigned disbelief. "I saw you hiding behind the door, Berry. Whatever, you aren't Puck or Quinn, so it's alright. I know you won't laugh at me or anything."

Rachel's blush went full fire-truck red, the diva clearly embarrassed. "I just…I heard someone playing and I really wanted to see who it was because Brad doesn't play without a prompt and then I saw you and I couldn't believe it and it was so beautiful and…"

Santana ambled off the bench and moved over to Berry's rambling self, mussing up her hair a little before plopping down on one of the seats in the room. "Cap'n, you really need to calm down, I'm not going to kill you. You caught me on a good day for once."

Rachel shot her an annoyed glare as she fixed her hair, her expression dropping into one that was a lot more insecure looking that Santana had expected. "I'm sure with Valentine's Day tomorrow, you must be swimming in date invitations and confessions of love." Rachel mumbled, just loud and clear enough for Santana to catch. She laughed at the girl's naivety, drawing a confused look from the diva, who, in dramatic fashion, put her hands on her hips and tried to look a little angry. She failed, she just looked kind of adorable. "You don't need to laugh, I know how things go around school this time of the year."

"Rachel, you think I get valentines from people because they love me? People want to fuck me, use me, and throw me away like tomorrow's trash." Santana spoke, ignoring Rachel's appalled expression as she continued. "You think I've been asked out on a date without the assumption that there'd be sex later that night? Doesn't happen. It's never happened. Whatever…"

It was a disappointing reality; even with Britt, she'd never really gone out on a nice date. All of their dates were at the duck pond, or in one of their bedrooms. She'd always wanted someone to be interested in her for her, but she knew it had been impossible, seeing as she never let anyone see her, not really.

"But…you're a popular girl…" Rachel started before trailing off, her eyes locking onto the flowers. "Do…do you bring flowers to school often? I was here this morning and they weren't on the piano."

Santana remained quiet for a few moments until Rachel returned her gaze onto the ex-cheerleader. "Can you keep a secret?" Santana asked, knowing Rachel did enjoy secrets. The diva liked when people trusted her. Rachel nodded slowly, her expression fighting to remain calm, which Santana thought was most amusing. "This week, someone's been sneaking into my locker and…they've been leaving me all this stuff. Like…handwritten notes and little sentimental gifts and flowers that apparently represent me, and I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around it."

Rachel stepped forward and sat down beside her, giving her an inquisitive look, before returning her gaze to the flowers. "Why is it so hard?" Rachel asked quietly, and Santana spotted the girl's hand constantly lifting from the lap they were rested in, as if she wanted to touch Santana, but didn't think it would be allowed. It was sweet.

"I'm not nice here. I'm mean and horrible, it's what keeps me on my feet. I just have a hard time believing anyone would care enough to try and figure me out like they have…and they have. Some stranger knows me better than my parents do…it's unnerving and flattering, and I don't know what to think." Santana continued, turning her head to look at Rachel. "I've had people want to fuck me, people lust after me, people want to be friends with me for status. But…love? That doesn't happen to people like me."

Rachel was quiet for a moment before she placed a small, rather feminine hand on Santana's thigh. "Is that why you sang that song?" the diva asked, her eyes making Santana want to just spill everything and tell her the truth. She knew she had to keep some form of composure, though.

"I just…look, they're hiding behind slips of paper they send me, and I'm hiding behind my head bitch in charge face. I just don't see how anything could work if I can't be honest and open with them, you know? And it could be anyone here at school. They can hide, but they still see me. They just…I know I'm a hard-ass bitch, but am I really so scary that even the people who feel they might love me are too afraid to even talk to me?" Santana explained, shaking her head slowly. "There's one day left, and then I'm going to be back to where I was a week ago. And they'll go back to loving me from afar or whatever, because they can, and I'll be left wondering why they told me if they weren't even going to ask me to be their date at that Breadstix thing tomorrow night. If someone put themselves out there for me, maybe I'd be able to just…let go, you know?" Santana internally prayed that Rachel would take the last bit of obvious bait she tossed out there. She wanted an invite, desperately. She wanted someone to make the effort. She wanted Rachel to make the effort.

"Santana, sometimes…sometimes people get scared of rejection. You go through the halls and hurt people daily. Maybe the person was scared that instead of being able to talk to the real you, they'd be met with Snix." Rachel stated, fumbling with her words a little, her nerves clearly getting to her. "I'll be attending the party tomorrow night, and…and if your valentine doesn't invite you, I'd love to be your…well, date would be the more popularly used term, but if you are opposed to that, then..."

Santana gave a good natured smile to the diva and squeezed the small hand on her thigh. "Oh captain, my captain. Sounds like fun, Berry." Santana noted quietly, enjoying the bright, nervous smile on the smaller girl's face, the diva clearly trying not to look too excited. "You're a really good listener, you know? I can't remember why I was ever mean to you for so long." She finished, getting up from her chair. Santana moved wordlessly over to the piano and sat down on the bench, before looking expectantly at Rachel. "So…you come here to practice, right? Anything I can help with?"

* * *

Friday morning came more quickly than Santana had thought. She'd enjoyed her time with Rachel for the rest of the lunch period, and once school was over, she finished her homework and then zonked out on her bed, only to wake the next morning at four. She was really early, certainly, but it gave her even more time to put her day's plan into motion. She knew the school's doors opened at six thirty; on top of that, Finn had once mentioned that Rachel woke up on school days at six o'clock exactly, and often arrived at or around seven. Which meant she had three hours to get up the guts to do what she figured would win her some major points with Berry, and would at least make glee a less hostile home for her. Santana had done a lot of thinking after that lunch period, and while she knew she wasn't in love with Berry, she knew that so long as the diva wasn't rambling furiously or being overbearing, she kind of really liked her, and wanted to give her a shot.

So when she got to school at six thirty on the dot and slipped her note into Rachel's locker, there were barely any people around aside from the janitors. Just like how no one was around when she placed the note and small package of vegan oatmeal raisin cookies on Rachel's desk in homeroom, confident the girl would show up first. It was a small gesture, and she was playing on the notion that Rachel thought that Santana thought her calligraphy skills were secret. She'd taken great enjoyment writing them all, and hoped that the student council would hold to their word and hand out valentines at the start of every class. Santana had noticed how downcast Rachel had looked when talking about valentines during their lunch hour get together, and wanted her to feel special for the day, because Rachel had made her feel special all week long, even if it was confusing at first.

She slipped out of school and drove around, grabbing breakfast before returning around quarter to eight. Her body was practically vibrating as she got to her locker, her hands fumbling the lock twice due to the familiar and pleasant scent before she managed to get it open. An amused laugh escaped her as she took in the sight of a neatly arranged mountain of lifesaver rolls, surrounded by white lilacs covering the inside of her main shelf, with a folded note atop it. _Berry, you're absolutely ridiculous…_

Life savers. They had been her candy of choice for years; they were small enough that she could eat them in class without drawing any attention, and when she'd gotten to high school, they were the only bit of sugar she could sneak through Sue Sylvester's surprise pat down checks. It was more or less one of the few candies she liked, seeing as how she preferred baked goods more, and she found it sweet and hilarious that the diva got her twenty one rolls of it. Santana breathed in the moment, enjoying the scent of the flowers, the promise of sweet candy, and the knowledge that there was one last note. She kind of didn't want to open it, because she didn't want it to be the last one.

Eventually, her curiosity beat out the defensive side of her mind, and she slowly unfolded the patiently and passionately written note.

_Santana, my heart's desire,_

_I love you. While lilacs seemed perfect for both of us, it reminded me of when this all started for me. I remember clearly in seventh grade, you leaving the school ground during recess to sit in Ms. Reynolds' front yard by her white lilacs whenever Brittany wasn't around. They seemed special to you then, and they symbolized how I'd started feeling about you. It seems like an odd coincidence, white lilacs symbolizing one's first dream of love. Yet there you were, late May in seventh grade and I swear I'd never thought about love until I'd seen you just sitting there, nestled into those lilacs, eyes closed with a soft peaceful smile on your face. Before anyone else, you were the first person I ever dreamed that I could love, and I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to tell you then, just like I'm sorry that I didn't tell you when I first knew I loved you. My dad had just gotten home, he spends the first few hours of Christmas morning at his friend's restaurant (they host an annual meal giveaway for needy families), and mentioned that he saw you volunteering. It was six in the morning on Christmas day, and I thought that there was no way Santana Lopez would be up so early. But when I got there and looked around, there you were. You were in the kitchen, preparing meals for people to take home, and you looked so happy. Your smile was breathtaking. I had been fighting my feelings for you for years, being dishonest about them because I was scared that the person I dreamed I could love had withered away across the years, but I just knew when I saw you, and I couldn't deny it anymore. It was as if I walked out of a fog and finally found you again, found the truth._

_And I really don't want to lose sight of you again, even if you don't think you could ever feel the same way. If you give me a chance, I'll show you you're worth so much more than what Lima has given you. Santana Lopez, would you do me the honour of meeting me at Breadstix tonight at seven, at one of the tables for two alongside the booths? If nothing else, we can have a nice meal and some entertainment._

_I hope this morning finds you well, Santana_

Santana took a deep breath as she moved to sit, not confident her legs would hold her all that well anymore. Her brain kept flashing back to all the days in elementary when she had hid away in Ms. Reynolds' yard by the lilacs. It was her safe spot; Ms Reynolds was her mother's oldest friend, and whenever she was feeling bad, she'd go there and let the scent of the lilacs relax her. Whenever Britt was bullied so much she was scared to leave the house. Whenever Britt was bullied so much she got sick or hurt, and had to stay home. Whenever she felt like she'd failed her best friend. Whenever her parents fought and scared her. Whenever she'd get a bad grade and she'd worry about telling her parents. Whenever she was just feeling lonely and weak. Whenever she was scared she'd have to change in order to be safer. Whenever she felt unlovable.

That yard was her sanctuary, she even returned there often during freshman year, when she was still dealing with the growing pains of popularity, her public persona and the reputation it gained her. Not that she wasn't more of a bitch; her parents made sure of that, constantly making her lose sleep and riling her up into bad moods just so they'd have another person to vent and yell at. Santana had decided to take after her abuela as a coping method, even knowing the old woman only acted as she did because she had for so long that it was expected of her. It was a short-sighted plan that led into long term problems, problems she needed to shed soon. Santana wasn't sure she could fully wait until senior year.

But with some help, she felt good about her chances.

* * *

Rachel Berry had never been so nervous. She had performed in exactly eighty four competitions, four school plays, and twelve music theatre camp shows, but those were nothing compared to how she felt that morning after dropping off Santana's valentine, the last step of 'Operation: V-Day'. Her heart was thudding against her chest as she quickly made her way to her locker, resting against it for a few moments in an attempt to calm herself. It didn't work.

She'd taken the plunge. The previous day's run in with Santana at lunch had been illuminating and heartbreaking; the song had been majestically melancholy, and hearing that Santana had never been properly asked out was horrifying. Most of her life, she'd known the confident, snarky Santana, but beneath that veneer was a girl that worried whether she could be wanted like that, and Rachel couldn't help but feel tremendously guilty for not having let the girl know that she did. That she'd wanted and liked her like that for years.

Wanting to avoid as much contact with the ex-cheerleader as much as possible, Rachel logged in her mind the books she'd need to carry with her until lunch as she opened her locker door. She almost missed the roll of parchment that had been resting on her chemistry textbook, as she'd been midway through grabbing it when she saw it roll off and slip behind her neatly organized stack of textbooks.

Deciding to be efficient, Rachel grabbed all of her books and shoved them into her backpack, before grabbing the parchment and proceeding to home room. It was still quite early, and usually she'd be singing, but she really felt too nervous for any sort of activity, and she had a strange note in her hands. When she strolled quickly into her homeroom and saw a purple tin covered in yellow stars on her desk, she almost had a heart-attack. The note was suspicious enough, seeing as she'd never been given anything for Valentine's Day in her life aside from the odd lewd message by Jacob Ben Israel, often written on a stained scrap of paper; she'd never been given Valentine's Day gifts before, yet there was something waiting on her desk.

Rachel looked around to see if there could have been a mistake before cautiously approaching her desk, noticing then that there was a small folded note resting beside it. Curious, she unfolded it, revealing possibly the most alluring penmanship she'd seen in years. Rachel wasn't sure if she could smile any wider and brighter than she already was, reading the note that simply said "They're vegan. Please, be selfish and don't share, even if just for today", signed off with an ornately drawn heart at the bottom right hand corner in a plethora of red and black inks. Her heart felt like it would burst, she was so happy, knowing the sweet Santana was still inside there, that she'd listened and noticed her mood the previous day. Knowing the girl did that, just to make her feel better, was more than she could have honestly hoped for.

She opened the container, finding a dozen oatmeal raisin cookies; Rachel hadn't expected anyone to have made her anything, but it was even more of a surprise to have found that someone had very freshly baked her favourite cookies. While Rachel was certain the recipes and taste would differ to some degree, she operated under the fact of life that all vegan oatmeal raisin cookies were worth being selfish for.

Quietly and happily, she snacked away, knowing it probably wasn't the healthiest of snacks, but that it was Valentine's Day, and she deserved to enjoy the first Valentine's Day gift she'd been given from anyone outside of her parents. Once she was finished eating half the scrumptious cookies, the tin safely packed away for later, she released the ribbon securing parchment and unrolled it. The letter-work was just gorgeous; she had memories of the girl's calligraphy, she even still had the invitation in her room, but it was clear that Santana had improved drastically. The message was simple, but the way she wrote it exuded a level of passion and confidence that Rachel hadn't known could ever be directed toward her. Much like the other note, there was an ornately drawn heart in the corner, though it was different than the last.

_You once said that being a part of something special made a person special. Myself, I've come to find that being near you all of these years has helped make me special, because you, Rachel, are more than special. You're a star. You guide us, you light up our lives, you give warmth when we're cold, and your generous love reminds us what to strive for when we feel like settling._

_Above all, you are cherished._

Rachel desperately tried not to melt in her seat as she read the words again and again. Santana cherished her. She'd thought the girl was simply poor with expressing her feelings for much of her life, but recently she'd begun to question that. The note she held confirmed that Santana Lopez could be gloriously charming and sweet when she felt like it, and Rachel kind of really wanted to frame both of the notes. They were pieces of art, to her, and no matter how the rest of the day went, she'd at least be able to look back and say that the girl she loved felt fondly for her once.

"Hey Rachel, what's that?" she heard Tina ask as her glee friend waltzed into homeroom, early as usual. Rachel wasn't sure what to do with the note she was holding, and by the time Tina came and looked over her shoulder, any decision she could have wanted to make was very much irrelevant. "Oh my god, that's gorgeous!"

Rachel just nodded sheepishly, her eyes unable to look away from the lettering, or the elegant borders that had been drawn around the message. It was stunning in all ways, and she wasn't sure what to do about it. Her brain was still catching up. "It's…a valentine…" Rachel stammered quietly, her free hand pointing to the other, smaller note. "I got cookies." she finished breathlessly.

Tina immediately pulled over the desk next to her and sat in it so she could get an easier look at it all. "Wow, who even does this sort of thing anymore? Is that all hand-drawn? Did a time traveler from some place in medieval Britain fall in love with you?" Tina asked softly; though her words were in jest, she was clearly in awe of the work. "Who do you think gave you it?"

Rachel blushed at the thought of telling them it was Santana, but she didn't feel up to telling anyone the girl's hobby. There had to be a reason she wasn't well known for her calligraphy, so Rachel kept quiet on the matter. "I'm not sure. Someone in glee, though, probably." Rachel answered, using all of her willpower to roll up the parchment and place the ribbon back on it. Class would start soon enough, and she didn't want her note to be wrecked.

"Wow. Well…wow. Someone seriously has a crush on you, Rachel." Tina noted thoughtfully, nodding at her own thoughts. Rachel's eyes lit up at the mere thought of Santana possibly returning her affections on a similar level, something she didn't expect, or dare to hope.

"You really think so?" she asked shyly, hoping for any reassurance she could gain. She knew it would hurt if the other girl turned out to be wrong, but she really just wanted to enjoy the moment and the hope of something more.

"I do, but…it's just this couldn't be Finn. And Sam's taken. Artie's taken. Mike's taken and he can't draw a stick figure dog, so he can't do that. It's not Puck either…so who is it?" Tina wondered openly. Rachel allowed the girl to consider the possibilities while she sneaked another cookie out, savouring the deliciousness. Despite her nerves and anxiety, it was already the best Valentine's Day she'd ever had, by far.

* * *

The day passed quickly, Rachel's head stuck in an embarrassing haze from the regular valentines she received each class; every note with a single sentence about why Rachel was cherished. She found it so hard to think that she feared she'd have to borrow Tina's notes to catch up. Rachel figured that even if she had to, she'd have the weekend, but it was still more than a little embarrassing. It was only at the start of glee where things came to a head.

After homeroom, word spread among the gleeks that she'd gotten a valentine; Rachel tried not to pay too much attention to what they'd say, thinking it was more disbelief than excitement for her, and she didn't want that to ruin anything. She was successful, at least until Kurt and Mercedes swarmed her in glee about it. They were both speaking so fast, and saying so many things, Quinn was giving her weird looks, Tina was wide-eyed beside her in excitement, Finn just looked really confused, and Rachel didn't know what to do at all. It was all overwhelming, and it wasn't the sort of attention she really appreciated.

"Wheezy, Lady Face, good job showing Berry your breath control, but if you don't give her room to speak, you're going to seriously break her record of rambling for six minutes straight that she did in sophomore year... and I don't think you two want to share that title." Rachel heard Santana call out as she waltzed into the choir room, a small smirk on her face, her presence silencing the two in front of her momentarily. "The school is positively abuzz about your valentine, Berry, but I heard it wasn't done by singing telegram, so I can't imagine you were entirely impressed."

Rachel blushed at the thought of a singing telegram valentine; in truth, she'd kind of always wanted one of those, but she wouldn't tell Santana that the valentine she'd received wasn't perfect. It was better than almost any singing telegram that she could imagine. "I…well, it…it was… perfect actually."

"Can we see it? I need to see whatever this is that has Rachel Berry stumbling over her words!" Kurt exclaimed in a slightly demanding tone that she wasn't outright fond of, but could understand. She'd been excited for Kurt when he'd gotten his mystery valentines as well, and had wanted to know all about them.

Sighing, she reached into her backpack, her hand closing around the familiar parchment. "Just be careful with it. It…it's art." She noted shyly, pulling out the roll and handing it to Kurt. The boy looked at it suspiciously for a moment before unrolling it, his eyes bulging as he scanned over the contents.

"Oh my god…" Mercedes breathed as she stared at the valentine.

"I told you I wasn't joking." Tina noted smugly, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly; apparently Mercedes hadn't believed her, but Rachel didn't care too much about that. She just didn't want her prized possession to be damaged.

"Someone in Lima does calligraphy?" Kurt asked, still staring at the valentine in disbelief.

"They gave me vegan cookies too. And smaller notes in each of my classes." Rachel noted quietly, pulling a cookie from her tin to snack on, deciding not to show any of the other notes, which had been too private for her to feel comfortable showing, even if they were PG. Her nerves were really getting to her, and she didn't fail to notice Santana was still standing around, looking oddly at the valentine.

The taller raven-haired girl took a look over Kurt's shoulder, her eyes darting over the script as if she was reading it for the first time, her mouth quirking up into a small smile as she moved her gaze from it to Rachel. "Awww, someone cherishes Berry. Seriously fancy shit… you must have entranced some fortunate soul with your siren song, tiny." Santana said playfully before walking over to her usual seat.

"Do you have any idea who it's from?" Kurt asked, slowly rolling the parchment up and handing it back to Rachel.

"I…might conduct an investigation." Rachel admitted, blushing, though her investigation would be approaching Santana about it later that night. And possibly showing her how much she appreciated it. "It just feels nice to get one. It's my first one since second grade."

"Girl, someone really likes you, which I can kind of understand, I guess. So if you need our help just ask, alright?" Mercedes asked, clearly excited about having something to gossip about as she and Kurt went to their seats. As she watched them leave, she couldn't help but notice Quinn was giving Santana a puzzling look.

Glee came and went uneventfully; she'd wanted to sing a song to express how happy she was, and perhaps how romantic of a mood she was in, but Mr. Schuester had let basically everyone else sing instead, stating that Rachel always got to sing, so she could wait it out. It was kind of depressing, and the fact that Santana seemed to be fuming a little bit didn't escape her attention. The ex-cheerleader had also requested to sing, but Schuester had stated he wanted to cap the week off without drama, which was hypocritical in Rachel's eyes, as he was single-handedly creating drama by saying that.

Glee eventually let out, and most quickly made their escape, either excited for their dates, or for the event later that night at Breadstix. Rachel thought she was the last in the room, packing up the sheet music neatly into her bag when a gentle hand rested on her shoulder.

"Hey, I…" Santana started, looking a little nervous, her cheeks surprisingly carrying a faint pink tint. "I can't do tonight, I…well, I got asked. So…is that alright? I just don't want you to feel left out or anything."

Rachel couldn't help but smile brightly at Santana, it was surprising that the girl was worried for her, and she honestly couldn't wait to surprise her at the restaurant. "I'll be fine, Santana. Thank you for your concern, I'm just elated that your valentine decided to ask you out. Are you excited?"

Santana clearly fought to suppress a smile, shrugging in an attempt to play off her obvious excitement. "I'm looking forward to it. I don't know what to expect or anything, it's all new for me."

"Well, I hope they treat you like you deserve to be, Santana." Rachel said earnestly as she stood, grabbing her backpack. "I'll see you there?"

Santana nodded, giving Rachel a small wave as she turned and walked out of the choir room. She couldn't help the excited giggle that escaped her. _Only a few hours left!_

* * *

Santana showed up uncharacteristically early, but she felt it would be appropriate; she wanted to see Rachel walk in. She wanted to surprise her for once, with the bouquet she'd hand-picked an hour and a half earlier. Santana hadn't expected to have much luck, but it seemed that as long as she didn't want roses, anything else she could have wanted was ripe for the taking.

So there she stood, waiting by a table for two as the Breadstix staff and the Warblers set everything up throughout the restaurant. Santana knew the place was still fairly casual dining, but she'd decided to dress up a little bit for the occasion; it might have been a bit silly, but she really did want to make a good impression, and she wanted to look as special as the girl she was waiting for had made her feel. So perhaps she was overly formal in her lilac halter dress but it was her favourite, and she needed as many things as she could to help soothe her nerves. It was weird, being nervous about Rachel Berry, of all people, but she was and there wasn't much of anything that she could do about it. There wasn't any wall she could put up that the girl wouldn't see through. She was just nervous, and had to deal with it.

And her nerves only got worse when the clock ticked past seven, making Rachel late for probably one of the only times in her life. People had started filing into the restaurant by that point, some giving her strange looks, but most were pre-occupied. Quinn, it seemed, couldn't help but flick her gaze over to her occasionally from where she sat with Finn, looking positively perplexed. Santana just rolled her eyes and kept waiting, trying desperately to keep from filing her nails, her nervous habit. She needed to be calm.

As soon as she saw Rachel enter, all semblance of calm left her, her right hand grabbing for the bouquet and bringing it behind her, securing her grip with her left, to keep from dropping it. It was funny; in her head, she'd planned everything out, but she couldn't remember anything as Rachel walked in her direction, holding a single gardenia. Santana felt a shy smile spread across her face at the sight.

"Gardenia…nice choice, Berry." Santana said, hoping her playfulness would hide how nervous she was as Rachel slowly walked up to her. The diva's eyes were so large and expressive, and she could see all the girl's anxieties and worries in them, but also her determination. It made her take a small step toward her, bending down a little to take in the scent of the flower. "Secret love…I guess you found a date, then."

As she straightened her posture again, she saw Rachel gulp and hold the flower out in offering. "I suppose I have." The girl said with a bright smile, her eyes glimmering in emotion. Santana , feeling a little more confident and less nervous after seeing how hopeful Rachel was, took the flower in her left hand, breathing it in again before dropping down to give the diva a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Santana found the deep red blush pooling across Rachel's face entirely endearing as she brought the bouquet out from behind her and offered it to the diva. "I…figured you let me know how you feel, so I'd do the same."

Rachel took the flowers hazily, her eyes never leaving Santana's face. It was kind of funny and flattering to have made her so awestruck, so she just went along with her plan, feeling that if she didn't, she'd mess something up sooner or later. Santana pointed to the purple sprigs of flowers first. "Purple Hyacinths…my mother used to grow these and give them to me when she missed my birthday, or after an argument. They basically mean 'forgive me, I'm sorry', and I have a lot to be sorry for when it comes to you."

Her hands drifted over to a group of round, rosy flowers with a lot of petals, her eyes unable to look at Rachel until she was done explaining, for fear of just forgetting what she was doing in the first place if she strayed. "Ranunculus. I…it's a flower that's given when you've been affected by someone's charms. And while it was kind of creepy and weird at the start of the week, you've won my undivided attention, Berry." She spoke, her mind flashing across all the mornings. She couldn't pin-point a moment when she felt confident that she wanted to pursue anything with the girl, but it happened along the way, and that's all that was important. Her hand slipped over to a tall sprig of deep blue flowers next. "These are Larkspurs, one of my favourites. I think they come from Africa, but they can grow pretty much anywhere and I guess that's why they symbolize a person's open heart. Because you opened yours to me, and I want to open mine to you…and maybe down the road I can just keep it open for once. For the first time in a long time, you make me feel that I can do that."

She heard a sniffle in front of her, and noticed Rachel cover her face a bit with her hand, but she pressed on, needing to get her thoughts out in the open. Her hand moved to a white and pink flower. "These are almond blossoms, they represent hope…I've spent the last five years being this badass mega bitch because everyone's made me feel like I have to protect myself from them. It's only been a week, but I can't shake the feeling that you're safe. That…well, you've always been safe, I just didn't see it until recently. So I hope that I can be myself around you, and I hope that we can build something because…"

Santana's hand drifted to the final set of flowers, a bright yellow six-petaled group that looked like daffodils, just a bit smaller. "I picked these Jonquils to show that I have some feelings for you too, and I'm open to your love." Santana finished, looking up at a teary eyed, furiously blushing Rachel Barbra Berry. Using her hands to remove Rachel's from her face, she took a step forward into the diva's personal space. "I just, I need to know something."

Rachel gave her a slightly baffled look, but it didn't last for long; Santana lifted the girl's chin with her fingertips and brought their lips together, and suddenly everything changed. She'd wanted a gentle kiss, she was too nervous to do anything more than that, and she really didn't want to sexualize anything at that point because she was still somewhat unsure, but Rachel was electric. It was as if the diva was made of energy by how her lips felt, how they sent a shiver of some tangled mess of emotions through her, and all she wanted was to keep kissing her so that maybe Rachel could help her sort through it all.

Eventually, her lungs started to hurt, and she realized she probably needed to breathe, so she pulled back, admiring the closed-eyed expression of pure unadulterated joy on Berry's face. Santana had never seen that look on a person's face before, and she felt amazing, knowing she'd done that. That someone was that happy, because of her. "Yeah…that's all I needed to know, I guess." She mumbled to herself, unable to control the enormous grin she was sporting. "Since Wednesday, I've just been kind of worried how it'd feel but it's…it feels right."

Rachel's eyes fluttered open, stray tears spilling from them as the girl smiled confusedly at her. "Wednesday?" the diva choked out, placing the bouquet on the table beside them with one hand, caressing Santana's cheek with the other, which was surprisingly nice. Britt generally didn't do that, none of the guys had either, and Rachel's hands were so soft and warm.

"When you admitted you were jealous of the football jocks." Santana noted playfully, leaning into the diva's hand slightly, before gesturing for the both of them to sit.

"I…was I that transparent?" Rachel asked, trying to shake off her shock and embarrassment as she took her seat.

"Not with just that, but the rambling notes, as sweet and verbose as they were, kind of added to my suspicions. And I knew your family had gotten the invites I did in seventh grade, and it didn't take long to narrow the list down. You saying that sealed it." Santana explained as Rachel's eyes widened. "I'll admit, I don't know how you found out I did the invitations, you're the only person aside from my parents that knows now."

Rachel ducked her head a little, though Santana wasn't sure why. "My dad asked yours if the person who did the calligraphy would help with his brother's upcoming wedding, and somewhere along the line you were mentioned. But when he asked my uncle, he said he already had it covered, so they didn't ask again…but I kind of just thought it was really pretty, and didn't know you could do that sort of thing until then."

"Oh. Well, I figured it was Quinn at first, because she's as nosy as I am sometimes, and she always snoops around my room whenever I'm not around. But I knew she was straight…and I kind of thought you were too, but…well, I guess we all hide parts of ourselves, for better or worse." Santana remarked, sitting back in her chair, happily rolling her gardenia around between two of her index finger and thumb.

Rachel nodded for a moment and then froze, blushing yet again. It was a good look on her. "You knew that I knew about your calligraphy when you sent your valentines." The girl noted breathlessly, and Santana could only nod and let a shy smile grace her lips. "And you knew it was me when we talked in the choir room on Thursday." Santana just nodded again, enjoying the pout on the girl's lips. "I…I'm not sneaky at all."

Santana laughed at the comment and brought her hand across the table for Rachel to take, which she promptly did. "You were kind of sneaky…you broke into my locker after all, and you found out all of that stuff about me that I try not to show. I'm just really perceptive when I know what I want." She said, hoping to reassure the girl across from her, who still shared an expression that kids would have if their scoop of ice-cream fell off their cone. "And I kind of wanted to get you out here, and I didn't want to take a chance at you not asking me. So…I may have baited you a little bit. I didn't want you to be scared of me anymore. I wanted to see you."

Rachel's pout had transformed into one of her thousand watt smiles, and Santana just breathed it in, glad that the girl was calmer now, less nerve-wracked. "Santana, I…" Rachel started, using both of her hands to cup Santana's lone one. "I love you. I…I really needed to say that. I love you." The girl finished, trying her best to stifle her giddiness as she spoke, wide-eyed and hopeful. In that moment, all Santana saw was Rachel. Not Kurt, pale and wide-eyed in shock. Not Finn or Quinn, both looking hurt and thoughtful respectively over the pair of girls across the aisle from them. Not Sam or Artie, who just looked entirely bewildered with the development. Not Brittany, who smiled adoringly at the both of them. Not Puck, who was busy leering at them until Lauren practically knocked him off his chair. Not Mercedes, who looked catatonic, mouth gaping open as she mindlessly texted someone. Not Tina, who was frantically pointing to the pair and whispering to Mike about them.

Santana placed the flower down and covered Rachel's hands, the girl's words echoing around in her head. "I think I could love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> This was in my one-shot archives on FFnet, but with its length, I figured it'd be better suited for a completed standalone. Hope you enjoyed it!


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